


Compasses and Anchors

by kaithartic (bluedreaming), tinybitsoflight (bluedreaming)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/kaithartic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/tinybitsoflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin is adrift in his life choices. Chanyeol is just lost.</p><p>Warnings: minor character death, slight disturbing imagery in a dream, mentions of past trauma/kidnapping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compasses and Anchors

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for the [Stillnessismove](http://stillnessismove.livejournal.com/2779.html) exchange.
> 
> Firstly, thank you to my recipient for the lovely prompts; I hope that I haven't strayed too far from what you were hoping for from this one. (ㅠ_ㅠ) Secondly, thank you to the mods for being so understanding in the face of health issues. ☆彡 Thirdly, thank you so much to the divine A who was kind enough beta for me AGAIN though I keep being mean and pulling tears out of fluff. And last but not least, eternal thanks to my special person who should be eating salad and not junk food. I will feed you lettuce forever. ♡

  
_Getting lost is not fatal. Almost every time, it will make your world."_  
~ Julien Smith

 

He was going home late one night — stuck in the library as usual because he'd lost yet another library book and had had to shelve for hours in reparation — when he saw them.

Three boys.

Dancing.

He couldn't hear the music over the sound of the trains but they wove in a strange semblance of motion, silent, limbs drifting under flickering lights flashing in and out of focus of the fluorescent fixtures.

There was one with rainbow hair, tall, spare in motion.

There was one with dark hair, graceful, his movements reminiscent of a kind of beautifully lethal martial art that you would admire even while being reduced to bones and bruises.

And then there was _he_.

There was a stillness in the electricity of his movements, nothing wasted, an urban ballet speaking of cement, paint on walls, broken glass.

His train pulled out of the station, Chanyeol's nose stuck to the window.

He forgot his subway card in his daze but that was okay. He knew all the help desk employees by name by now and they had a replacement ready before he made it to the window.

"Thanks!" A cheerful grin and an amused smile back.

_The story of my life._

..-. .. -..- / -- .

"Hey."

Chanyeol kept walking. The university hallways were crowded; he was cutting it close for lunch and he'd lost his meal card so he needed to rush to get a replacement before he could order.

"Hey!"

_Is someone talking to me?_

Chanyeol turned, causing the girl behind him to crash into him, both landing hard on the ground.

"Oomph." Chanyeol groaned as the air was crushed out of his lungs.

"Jerk," the girl grumbled, stepping on his arm with a crunch as she scrambled up, smoothing her skirt down over her legs.

Chanyeol lay on the hallway floor, temporarily dazed. _I'm used to it._

So he was surprised to see a hand float into his vision. No one usually helped him at all.

"Are you okay?"

The voice even sounded concerned.

_Is this a joke?_

His head was throbbing as he rolled awkwardly onto one side, attempting to prop himself up with one arm before collapsing back down with a muffled groan.

_My elbow._

Suddenly there were arms lifting him up off the ground, rolling him into a seated position.

Chanyeol peered through watering eyes and froze.

It was _he_.

The one from the subway station.

The one with the magic in his limbs.

"I think we need to get you to the infirmary," the boy said kindly. Chanyeol could only nod numbly; his brain still wasn't fully functional.

As he staggered down the hallway, long arms draped awkwardly over the boy's shoulder, he wondered what he had broken this time.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

"I don't know how you managed to end up with a broken elbow." The boy was laughing at him, waving his hands gracefully through the air but Chanyeol had been mooning over his motions for the last three hours, from the infirmary to emergency to the the doctor and now, sitting at a late night diner, he was all mooned-out. So he stuck his tongue out instead.

"It just happens." _I don't even care anymore. Also I'm really hungry. We can talk about my obviously hilarious klutziness when my stomach is full._

"I'm Jongin, by the way," the boy said, grinning. He twirled his spoon between his fingers and flipped it over his knuckles to scoop it back between his index and ring fingers again — Chanyeol was mesmerized for a brief moment before he remembered to tear his eyes away, fixing them determinedly on the menu. _Soup or salad?_

"I'm Chanyeol," he said, smiling out of reflex. Jongin's grin morphed into a gorgeous smile, and Chanyeol was lost again.

"Is there something on my face?"

Chanyeol quickly shook his head, relieved when the server came by for their orders. He managed to eat without getting distracted for more than five minutes, _the way he moves his arms, even when he's eating, is like poetry in the air_ , and Jongin smiled at him as they left, Jongin to the dorms, Chanyeol for home by taxi because Jongin insisted. When he got home and reached to pay the taxi driver, only to realize that he'd left his bag in the restaurant, he wasn't even embarrassed about having to call his mother.

 

  
_Sometimes you feel incomplete and you are just young._  
~ Italo Calvino

 

There was a message from his mother in his voice mail. Jongin didn't even bother hitting play, just deleting it and then clearing the history for good measure. _I'll never be who you want me to be._ He hasn't been home once since he secretly switched his major from pre-law to graphic design.

"Where were you all day?" Sehun was munching on potato chips as he wandered into the room.

Jongin looked up from his laptop. He was drawling vector graphics for his favourite class and finding the mazes all too easy to get lost in lately. After the voice mail it was impossible. _I need a break._

"I took a student to the hospital because he broke his elbow in the hallway." He grinned, thinking about the boy's cute expressions.

"Wow, that's the happiest I've seen you in a long time!" Zitao was trying on a hideous zebra-striped sweatshirt but it only made it halfway down his chest before Sehun gave him a discreet shake of the head and the offending item of clothing was discarded.

Jongin frowned. He didn't need anyone reminding him about how much he felt like he was constantly drifting and nothing was making him happy. He loved graphic design but his parents' expectations were a crushing weight that his slim shoulders couldn't quite shrug off.

"I feel like hitting The Wall again, either of you want to join?" Sehun could obviously sense his discomfort, but right now Jongin didn't even care.

"Definitely," he said, pushing himself away from the computer with relieved sigh.

Zitao emerged from his and Sehun's room with leather jacket on and they left for Jongin's happy place.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

"When's the last time you were home?" Sehun had emptied an entire spray can of paint in a rather fluffy impression of little miss muffet. He was slumped against the wall now, gulping a bottle of Fiji water and idly watching Zitao turn his masterpiece into little miss punkett instead. He laughed when the black ran out.

"No comment." Jongin wasn't about to become a pity project of his friends and anyway, he was too busy putting the finishing touches on his miniature city. The tiny walls and windows were perfect in the eternal fluorescent light and as he stood back, surveying his dominion proudly with a satisfied expression on his face, he silently wished that he could just as easily paint his happiness onto a wall to disappear into.

"Hey I haven't seen him here before..." Turning towards Sehun's curious comment, not worried that it was the police because the tone would been entirely different and accompanied by high pitched Zitao shrieks, Jongin stopped in surprise.

It was Chanyeol.

There were creases under his eyes and a red spot high in one cheek — Jongin's fingers tingled — he stuffed them back in his pocket. _What is he doing here?_

Zitao echoed his thoughts. "What are you doing here?" If Jongin had said it, it would have sounded vaguely accusatory, if Sehun had said it the tone would have been one of reserved boredom, but Zitao who looked so dark and menacing spoke like a teenage girl.

Chanyeol looked up from the ground where his eyes were _tracing the pavement?_ and stopped in his tracks.

"Oh..." He looked completely lost, the damp hem of his jeans trailing sadly on the ground. Then he spotted Jongin, and a smile as wide as the sun breaking through clouds dawned across his face. Jongin felt strange. _Too many propellant fumes._

"I'm kind of lost," Chanyeol admitted, but he didn't look too worried. Jongin noticed that his feet were wet though, and that he was carrying a shopping bag instead of his backpack.

"What happened to your backpack?" Jongin blurted out and then kicked himself as both Sehun and Zitao turned to look at him curiously.

"Do you know each other?" Sehun sounded intrigued. Zitao flopped down beside him and giggled, resting his chin on his roommate's shoulder. Jongin sighed, but Chanyeol saved him _further incriminated him?_ by answering first.

"Jongin was nice enough to take me to the hospital when I fell and broke my elbow." Chanyeol grinned at Jongin's friends and he could tell they liked him already.

"I didn't think you had it in you!" Sehun cocked an eyebrow sceptically. Jongin shot him a glare but the rainbow-headed jerk only ducked behind Zitao.

"Anyway I forgot my bag at the restaurant so I was trying to get there..." Chanyeol's voice trailed off hesitantly. "I woke up and got off at the wrong stop and then the lights kind of ended and it was wet?"

Now even Jongin was impressed and Zitao sounded scared. "You walked from N— station along the closed line in the dark?"

Chanyeol nodded, giving them a reassuring grin. "Worse things have happened to me," he laughed. "I get lost a lot and I always leave everything behind."

Jongin felt a twinge of worry in his chest, which he chalked up to simple human compassion for the huge klutz.

"Do you want me to help you to the restaurant?"

Sehun looked at Jongin in surprise — _I know I'm being weird but I can't explain it and you don't have to rub it in_ — and Zitao smiled at him with that annoying dopey grin. _I'll punch you before hugging you okay?_

But Chanyeol's obvious relief was worth it.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

The subway ride to the restaurant was fine, until Chanyeol fell asleep. _He must be tired after all that walking._ And when the tall boy sank slowly onto his shoulder Jongin didn't even mind too much — _at all_ — and even darted a hesitant finger out to stop the glasses from slipping off his nose. _I'm just being nice._ But then the dream started and things were definitely not okay.

At first it was just a soft mumbling, that was fine, people talked in their sleep all the time, but soon it progressed to moaning and crying; Jongin was alarmed to see actual tears tracking down the boy's face. And then he started talking.

"Yura..."

Chanyeol's face was furrowed with pain, eyes streaming, fingers digging white crescents into his palms.

"Yura..."

 _Who is that?_ Jongin pretended that he wasn't strangely — _painfully_ — bothered by Chanyeol calling out for some unknown girl.

"Yura don't leave me..."

And then he went limp. And cold. And Jongin was terrified.

"Chanyeol! Chanyeol! Wake up!" He didn't even care that the other passengers in the subway were looking at him strangely, that he was frantically shaking the shoulders of a boy he barely knew, that there was water in the corners of his eyes.

Chanyeol finally stirred, his eyelids fluttering open, and Jongin sank back with a choked breath.

"Is something wrong?" Chanyeol's face was white, his hands were shaking and he looked totally lost — _You just woke up from what looked like the most traumatic dream of the century and you're asking me?_ — Jongin didn't even know what to say.

"You were dreaming..." he finally muttered, looking at the floor, at the tunnel walls flashing as the subway sped through the ground.

"Oh," said Chanyeol, slightly puzzled. "That's strange. I never dream." He was smiling now, even though he looked exhausted, and Jongin didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

The restaurant had luckily enough kept the bag in the back room; Jongin said a special thanks to the server whom he recognized from the evening before, a tall girl with dark hair who only blushed and retreated back to the kitchen. _Girls are so weird._

Chanyeol, on the other hand, was bubbly and klutzy, tripping over his feet and knocking his glasses askew, patting around on the sidewalk until Jongin, grinning, pointed out that they were on his head.

When Jongin insisted on escorting him home — _no use putting all my work to waste_ was the excuse he convinced himself with — Chanyeol protested but he didn't miss the relief smoothing out some of the exhaustion on his face. Chanyeol insisted on stopping for coffee on the way home and insisted on paying as a thank you.

Jongin wasn't sure what to expect — _angry parents shouting because their spoiled baby boy had a mind of his own_ — but it wasn't the gracious woman with her hair in a soft chignon who answered the door.

"Oh Chanyeol, you're early." She smiled as she reached up to pat her son on the side of the head but Jongin noticed the wrinkles around her eyes. _She worries a lot._ Chanyeol only grinned and slipped around her to plop his backpack onto the chair.

"Jongin brought me home." Chanyeol's mother turned to him and he smiled awkwardly; was he going to get in trouble for keeping him out late?

She only smiled at him, the grin stretching across her face — _now I see were he gets it from_ — and thanked him for taking such good care of her son.

Jongin wandered back to the dorm by way of the riverbank, and danced for a while along the water. His reflection in the water refused to mirror his face. _I'm jealous of his mother._

 

  
_"Getting lost is just another way of saying 'going exploring'."_  
~ Justina Chen, North of Beautiful

 

It had been an interesting week.

"Who was that boy?" Chanyeol's mother asked at breakfast the next morning. His father was in Paris right now for work, but the iPad was propped up at the table so that they could still eat together even though the times were funny.

"You met a boy?" his father grinned, spreading marmalade on his toast.

Chanyeol blushed and waved his hands in denial. "He just helped me because I was lost!"

The lines around his mother's eyes deepened slightly but she only smiled at him. "Maybe we need to get you a GPS tracker." Chanyeol laughed at the thought.

"I'm okay," he insisted. "It always works out somehow."

"Yes it does," his father said quietly, before taking another sip of café au lait. His mother just poked him on the nose and told him to be a good boy when he ran out the door.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

Chanyeol was really regretting his words at the breakfast table. It was really late, past the time when the subways were running, and he'd somehow gotten off at the wrong stop and been locked out of the subway system. At first he'd just started walking, there was always a bus stop or something, but by the time he had to resign himself to the fact that he was in some kind of very upscale residential area, his phone was dead as usual and he couldn't even see a taxi anywhere in sight.

So he sat down on the curb, shivering because it was cold, and thought about his options.

He could keep walking.

Or he could keep walking.

Not a lot of choice but he was used to getting into scrapes and everything would turn out okay away. He smiled. The stars were pretty tonight. He got up to start walking again.

And then he saw him. Jongin. He was walking towards him, head down, feet kicking aside fallen leaves and he quickly approached, "He—"

Crash.

Chanyeol was on the ground for the second time that week and seeing stars. The ones in his head were even prettier than the ones in the sky.

"Watch where you're going!" Jongin's voice was angry and Chanyeol's heart sank. _Today is just going to be one of those days._ He laughed, because he didn't like to cry.

"Oh," Jongin's voice was suddently hesitant. "Chanyeol?" Chanyeol nodded, even though he wasn't sure what the question was. "What are you doing here?"

_That's a really silly question._

"I'm lost." He smiled reassuringly. Being lost was okay.

"But," Jongin sounded...worried? _You're so cute._ "You're so far from your house!"

Chanyeol shrugged. "It happens." A sudden yawn surprised him, his mouth cracking so wide open that his eyes watered. Jongin looked at his watch.

"It's past midnight! Your mom must be really worried!" He looked ready to phone her himself.

"My phone's dead." Chanyeol shook his head at himself.

"Well mine isn't." Chanyeol watched, bemused, as Jongin proceeded to extract the phone number from him, save it into to his own contacts, and call his mother.

"Hello? This is Jongin; I'm the— yes, that was me. I found Chanyeol wandering around the — yes, I'm glad I happened to be here. I was wondering — oh, you think so too? Okay. He'll be home safe tomorrow."

"You're coming back to the dorms with me," Jongin said, and that was that.

_You're even cuter when you're being responsible._

..-. .. -..- / -- .

The other boys from the subway were there...Jongin introduced them as the roommates from next door, Zitao and Sehun.

"Zitao, you have some extra pajamas right?" Jongin's take charge attitude was still in full force and Chanyeol noticed that his friends seemed ... surprised? Zitao nodded and Sehun followed him back to their room to get his extra toothbrush.

"I don't have a roommate," Jongin told Chanyeol, "so you can have that bed." Said bed was covered with mangas, manhwas, graphic novels and the occasional mystery novel, which the boy swept summarily onto the floor.

Zitao's pajamas were gold and red and covered with dragons besides being too short; Chanyeol didn't care when Sehun laughed at him but Jongin sulked until he was bribed with promises of fried chicken the next day. Zitao and Sehun exchanged glances before looking at Chanyeol who grinned back. He felt like he was being let into a great secret, one that Jongin didn't know. _He's so dumb._

They watched anime and yelled at two dimensional characters, ate cereal from the box and drank milk from the carton; Chanyeol fell asleep laughing, leaning against Jongin's shoulder.

_I feel so found._

..-. .. -..- / -- .

_he's walking with yura in the park, it's afternoon and the sun is shining — do you want some ice cream? — yes. the ice cream truck is beside the oak tree but there is a line; small feet wandering, he is tired of standing on the sidewalk and there is a shaded gazebo across the street, left, right, nothing there so he starts to cross — chanyeol!!!_

_his head is throbbing and he tries to lift his hand but — yura? a small cry in the dark because it is dark, only the light of the moon reflected in the broken glass propped against the wall — yura? the sound of fabric stirring and a muffled moan — don't worry, it's going to be okay._

_dusty mouth and teeth sticking to a tongue so dry it bleeds in flecks of red rust over his cracked lips, tongue dancing over the broken skin like sandpaper — yura? there's no answer and the glass against the wall is fuzzy with dirt and greener things._

_his skin rubbed raw from the ropes but his skeleton is sharper than it used to be, he slips out of the sunset-stained restraint and rests, gasping as his chest flutters. his teeth are bigger than they used to be, filling up his whole mouth or maybe it's just his cheeks shrunken in to brush their outsides. there's a smell in the room now, it's sticky and crawls up his nose. the flies are louder too — yura? — just waiting for an answer._

_everything is quiet._

_— yura?_

_she doesn't turn to look at him anymore; she hasn't in a long time._

_his small hand reaches out, she's cold but so is he — yura? he nudges her shoulder and her head flops over...there are flies_

_and sunken eyelids where her brown eyes are supposed to be._

_he's opening his mouth and flies come streaming in_

..-. .. -..- / -- .

He was lying on the ground and it was cold. Except his head and shoulders, those were warm; he could feel arms wrapped around him and a voice —

"Chanyeol?"

He blinked. There was water in his eyes but he didn't remember it raining.

He didn't remember anything.

_Where am I?_

"Chanyeol?"

That was Jongin's voice. A warm hand brushed his cheek.

He smiled.

It didn't matter if he was lost. He was with Jongin.

 

  
_Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it._  
~ Michelangelo

 

It was quiet when Jongin woke.

Except it wasn't.

There were muffled gasps coming from the spare bed in Jongin's room, for a split-second he was terrified and then he remembered...

"Chanyeol?"

There was no answer. He tried to get out of bed quietly but his feet tangled in the sheets and he fell in a heap on the floor; he glanced up at the shadow under the cover but Chanyeol only moaned. Jongin rested his forehead on his bruised knee. Chanyeol sat up.

Jongin was opening his mouth to apologize when he realized that Chanyeol was still sleeping.

The older boy was still sleeping as he quietly stepped down onto the cold floor, resting his feet there for a moment before standing up and heading for the door.

Jongin didn't know what to do so he grabbed a blanket and his phone, slipped on his shoes and followed Chanyeol out the door.

**What do I do if someone's sleepwalking?**

There was no answer when he messaged Zitao, tripping on his pajama hems and almost running into a telephone pole. Chanyeol's bare footsteps were soundless in the dark.

_Zitao you jerk answer your messages._

Nothing. He tried Sehun but the results were the same.

They were getting further from the dorms; he was cold and tired and starting to be really concerned about the state of Chanyeol's bare feet. The ground was cold and wet and the asphalt was rough.

"Chanyeol?" He tried waving his hand in front of the boy's face, lightly shaking his shoulder. Chanyeol just kept walking, face towards the dark, eyes glassy.

"Yura?" The sound was a broken whisper. Jongin felt like someone had punched him in the stomach with it.

"Yura?" They were at a playground, the swings hung silent in the still air, the slide glistened with dew.

"Yura?" And then Chanyeol stopped abruptly. Jongin almost ran into him; he peered quickly at his face — _maybe he woke up finally_ — but Chanyeol was still dreaming.

Until he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Jongin barely managed to catch him as the taller boy collapsed to the ground.

He was cold and he wasn't breathing.

Jongin's eyes streamed in the cold — "Chanyeol! Chanyeol!" — he phoned Zitao or Sehun, he didn't know which and it was all the same thing anyway.

"Help!"

And then Chanyeol started breathing again. Jongin watched, heart in his throat, as the lines smoothed from his face.

"Chanyeol?" He couldn't help touching his cold cheek...

He opened his eyes and smiled.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

Chanyeol didn't remember anything, only smiled happily, shivers subsiding after being wrapped in the blanket as they watched Sehun and Zitao tumble out of a taxi to find them.

"Are you okay?" Zitao sounded breathless. His hair was a mess and he seemed to have put his clothes on backwards. And then Jongin saw Sehun, who was wearing Zitao's other dragon pajamas, the ones he mocked his roommate publicly for.

"You?" Jongin couldn't help but ask; even Chanyeol laughed, while Sehun only looked deeply disgusted.

"You're so dumb," he said, and the look of disapproval didn't leave for the whole taxi ride home, while Zitao rubbed Chanyeol's cold hands in between being poked by Jongin, who felt strangely jealous.

But after tucking Chanyeol back into bed because he didn't have class until noon, Jongin still couldn't get the memory of panic out of his stomach.

He dialled Chanyeol's mother.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

"Thanks for meeting me." Jongin couldn't help but feel shy. _Chanyeol's mom is so awesome and I'm a dumb kid, lying to his parents and defacing public property with cheap spray paint, who's prying into something that's none of my business._

Chanyeol's mom smiled. The tracery of lines around her eyes was beautiful. She only nodded, offering him hot cocoa.

"I'm really happy to meet you," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table across from him. Chanyeol was in class, a fact Jongin was very relieved about. _No need for complicated excuses._

"I'm really sorry about not taking care of him well enough..." Jongin began to apologize, thinking about the raw patches on the bottoms of Chanyeol's feet, the cold he'd probably picked up from the night air.

Chanyeol's mother shook her head, tapping a sip of cocoa.

"Nonsense. Chanyeol's a special case." Her eyes weren't exactly sad, more thoughtful, but Jongin's heart still skipped a beat.

"The dreams then...?" His voice was small and tentative. _Am I allowed to ask this?_

"Yes, the dreams," she sighed softly, her smile slipping briefly. She set her cup down on the saucer with a soft clink. "When Chanyeol was five he and his older sister were kidnapped from the park. The one you found him at."

Jongin didn't know what to say, whitening knuckles clutching the chair that was holding him up off the ground.

"We gathered together the ransom, that wasn't a problem, but the kidnapper got run over by a drunk driver right in front of our eyes, I still remember the sound ..." Her voice trailed off for a moment before she shook her head slightly and continued. "By the time the police were able to track down where Chanyeol and Yura were being held, it was too late."

There were tiny tears budding in the corners of her eyes. The smell of flowers drifted through the open window, along with an errant strand of birdsong. She smiled, dabbing at her tears with dainty fingertips.

"He didn't speak for several months and after that the dreams and the memory loss started," she explained softly. "He's really okay, the doctor just said that he might never remember the incident and that's fine. I just worry though..."

"Because he loses everything including himself?" Jongin hadn't been planning on saying anything but the words just popped out of his mouth —

"But you find him," Chanyeol's mother said simply. "His father and I do our best to let him live a normal life and that means letting go. But you find him again."

She gave him a hug when he left; Jongin thought as he was comforted by her unconditional acceptance that maybe he had also found himself in the process.

..-. .. -..- / -- .

"So did they disown you or set you on fire or whatever you were afraid of?" Zitao was draped over Sehun who was trimming his nails.

"No." Jongin's voice was sheepish, besides being muffled in his pillow. "After I told that that I had switched my major to graphic design, my mom just yelled at me for not coming home for Christmas, my sisters criticized my haircut, and my dad told me he has connections with one or two companies for when I graduate."

Chanyeol laughed. "You're so silly."

Jongin lifted his flushed face up from the plaid pillowcase to glare at his boyfriend. "Shut up. Who's the one who forgot his student card in the third floor library bathroom for the fifth time this month?" He stuck his tongue out.

"And who's the one who found it and brought it to me so that I could get out of the library?" Chanyeol giggled, a sound which both annoyed Jongin to no end while at he same time sending shivers of happiness running up and down his spine.

"What I want to know," Sehun asked, not lifting his eyes from the delicate task of grooming his boyfriend's manicure, "is what do you guys do all the time in the third floor library bathroom?"

Jongin and Chanyeol only grinned at each other and didn't even have the decency to blush.

 

  
_Love is friendship set on fire._  
~ Jeremy Taylor


End file.
